


Bad Batch of Chips

by galacticmistake



Series: The Tour Gone Wrong (Febuwhump 2021) [7]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Food Poisoning, Gen, Implied vomiting, medication mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticmistake/pseuds/galacticmistake
Summary: Brian decides to get everyone lunch. This absolutely does not turn out to have a positive outcome, however.(Febuwhump Day 7: Poisoning)(Modern setting)
Relationships: John Lennon & Paul McCartney
Series: The Tour Gone Wrong (Febuwhump 2021) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139264
Kudos: 2





	Bad Batch of Chips

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Food poisoning, implied vomiting, medication mention

The next afternoon, the 3 performers found themselves in Detroit for 2 separate concerts: one at 4pm, and another at 8pm.

It was 3:30 now, so Brian had decided to get some lunch, hoping that at least something to eat would keep everyone’s moods level and their energy up. To his surprise, there was a fish and chips shop not too far away from the venue, so he got 4 orders of the standard dish and made his way back.

“Who wants lunch?” Brian blindly asked.

To no surprise, all 3 of them shot straight up and grabbed a helping. The collective 4 of them ate gratefully, thoroughly enjoying an attempt at a comfort from home.

====================================================================

5:30. Finally, the first concert was over. The boys couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and hopefully get some rest. As they piled in the limo, Paul began to feel quite unwell.

“Queasy?” John asked.

Paul nodded, which only seemed to worsen his nausea.

“Must have been those chips. Don’t know what they put in ‘em, but you really seemed to like them. Maybe it’s that?”

Paul shook his head.

“This isn’t the time to joke around, John.”

“Right, my bad.”

Eventually, they finally made their way to the hotel. Paul put on a brave face for the cameras and reporters, who solely wanted a piece of the band and all they were worth to fill their camera rolls.

Somehow, within the span of 10 or so minutes, John and Paul managed to lock themselves in their hotel room, and Paul felt everything get much, much worse. In what seemed like a split second, Paul shot up from the chair he had previously slumped into and locked himself in the bathroom. John slowly made his way to the door.

“Hey, Paul? Are you ok?”

A series of unpleasant noises proved otherwise.

“Let me go get Brian, ok?”

John bolted out of the room and rushed to the room across, nearly crying tears of joy to see him sitting on a chair.

“What’s the matter, John?”

“It’s Paul. I think he’s sick.”

“No kidding. Alright, give me a sec and I’ll scope it out.”

John and Brian made their way back to John’s hotel room, and Brian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Yep. It’s food poisoning. I’ll be right back. I have to make a phone call and get Paul some medicine.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Brian went back into his room and immediately called the venue.

“Hello, this is Brian Epstein, manager of The Beatles. I regret to inform you that we have to cancel our second show tonight. Our bassist came down with food poisoning. ...ok, thank you for understanding. Goodbye, then.”

Brian sighed as he ended the call and walked back to John and Paul’s room.

“Cancelled the show.”

Upon hearing no response from either of the two, Brian opened the door and found John laying Paul down in one of the beds, gently pulling a thin sheet over him.

Brian gasped to himself in an effort to contain his tears. He had never seen John be this tender towards anyone in the entirety of the band, so this certainly came as a shock to him.

All of a sudden, he noticed John looking back at him.

“Right. I’ll… go get the medicine.”

Brian left in an embarrassed hurry, leaving the door open.

“The fuck was that about?”

Brian bolted straight back into the room with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. He poured some into the little measuring cup and handed it to Paul, who graciously drank all of it in one gulp. Brian left the room straight afterwards, leaving the two to their own devices. 

Paul fell asleep straight afterwards, and John rented a fairly old movie.


End file.
